


Worse Then a Whore

by Atqueinstupracaballum



Series: Blood Brothers [1]
Category: The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson
Genre: Alternate Ending, Anal Fingering, Control Issues, Everything about this is unhealthy, Extremely Dubious Consent, I spent a ungodly amount of time on this, Jekyll is a piece of work, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Post-Canon, Rough Sex, Separate bodies, That's one hell of a ego you got there buddy, Welcome to the hell that is my AU's, no wonder Hyde's a alcoholic, there's a mediocre serving of plot before the porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24796462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atqueinstupracaballum/pseuds/Atqueinstupracaballum
Summary: Separated or not, there was a reason Henry Jekyll created Edward Hyde.
Relationships: Edward Hyde/Dr. Henry Jekyll
Series: Blood Brothers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863631
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	Worse Then a Whore

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly can not tell if I'm fully satisfied with how this turned out in the end, but I'm sick of staring at it and my gut is telling me it's postable. That said, hopefully, you enjoy it to some capacity.

_"What did you do?" he had cried, aghast, shaking, naked head to toe on rotted floorboards._

_"I purged the devil," laughed Hyde, every muscle was taught with a most joyous hysteria._

Jekyll had never seen Hyde happier than the day their bodies -not minds, observe- had been separated from one another. Victory, sweet victory had shown in the young murderer's eyes as he began to hiss at Jekyll to go, leave his sight forever, take his clothes and leave him alone, to let him be free. Freedom. That was the word he kept using.

Was Jekyll such a tyrant? He tended not to think so. Was he truly a devil, just as his most loathed juggernaut claimed? The thought brought forth from him a chuckle when it did not anger him. Edward Hyde was an ungovernable urchin, a dangerous one at that. He _ought_ to be controlled, locked away in some dark crevice of the mind, never to stain the world with grimy, bloodied hands. 

His victory was extraordinarily short-lived...

To Hyde's chagrin, his attempt at 'purging the devil' had not been on the whole successful. He was still connected to the conscious that had born him, any looking glass he crossed paths with could be infiltrated by Jekyll -given that Jekyll to stood by a mirror at the time- and they shared still that disarrayed plane of their dreams. At the beginning of their acquaintance, this intimate connection had been savored, enjoyed like a particularly rich, forbidden, delectable. Dreams were sickly sweet, sordid, beautiful in a way only sin could achieve. It had been there, hidden in the grand halls and gardens of Jekyll's subconscious, where they could be truly free, and truly together, like the dogs they were. 

Now, far from being savored, that connection was a burden to Hyde, he feared it. He refused sleep, he avoided and abused mirrors, and his entire being now seemed dedicated to eradicating that last string connecting them. Jekyll, therefore, was not a welcome figure in his wicked half's new home, not that that stopped him.

After all the trouble Hyde had rung him through, Jekyll had disowned most of those sins which he had for a time basked in. There was one, however, he still allowed. Even in the aged, prestigious facade that was his body, this was one act of sin that he could still indulge in every now and again.

~

"The next chance I get I will skin you like a cat, I will, you _bastard_...I'll scream- put one more foul finger on me and I assure you I shall scream." To the best of his ability, Hyde thrashed, to little or no avail. Anytime he got a hand free, Jekyll was quick to recapture the stray wrist and pull him closer. 

"No one will hear you," there was no concern whatsoever in his manner as he pressed his body closer to his twisting prey. "You know that. Now-" 

"God shall, and in Damnation you-"

"Rubbish," Jekyll's voice was severe. "God has never spared you a glance." The heat singeing his core was maddening. " _He_ did not create you." With his free hand, he began undoing his pants. " _I_ did," his manhood was half hard already, nothing a few deft strokes could not fix. Hyde let out a howl as he was picked up and forced down upon his back on his desk. "And because of that, _I_ reckon that _I_ can do whatever it is _I_ bloody want with _you_." He spat upon a few of his fingers. His partner was not worthy of much else.

A passion somewhere between contempt and desire flared in those dark eyes of Hyde's. Heaved breaths grew more erratic as his creator tore away his pants and jammed two fingers deep within him. Teeth snapped and canines flashed as the younger man attempted -and failed- to kick him off. Jekyll responded by leaning down over the desk, further pressing their bodies together, further pining the rebellious devil down. 

"What was it that you told me once?" inquired the doctor, a third finger plunging into that wicked heat and curling. Edward's response was an attempt to drive his knee into the older man's gut, nails tearing bloody holes into his creator's hands as growl upon growl fell from his lips. "Ah yes, you perched on my knee so prettily and told me that my wishes were yours. Do you remember that?"

Of course, no answer was given to him. Hyde remembered just as well as Jekyll, it read loud in clear under the fury and fear. Deep down, nothing had changed, Hyde knew that too. He was there, on this miserable earth, to indulge Jekyll, to bear all of the doctor's sins on his slim, pale shoulders until they buckled. 

Jekyll was quick to grow tired of the animalistic sounds spilling hysterically from the younger man as he was ravaged.

"So much noise for someone who ought not even to be breathing," grumbled he. With that, he slid his hand out from between Hyde's quivering thighs and snapped it over his grimacing mouth. 

Jekyll let himself go to the throws of pleasure. Spit lubricated just enough to make the action of thrusting plausible. Each movement of his acted to further unravel the frayed stitches that held his disaster of a creation together. Seam by seam, thrust by brutal, loveless thrust, Edward Hyde fell apart. Where once shrieks echoed, sobs and moans flourished. Struggle was replaced by the arch of a spine, violent, desperate spasms, and legs wrapped tightly around Jekyll's hips. At some point, lost as he was in the revolting, addictive heat of his partner, his grip on Edward's slight wrists had loosened. Fingers now tugged through his hair, bit into his shoulders, yanked him closer, and left harsh nail indentions on the back of his neck.

Tears streamed down the young man's freckled, pale, violently flushed face, eyes screwed shut, his mouth hung open, lips shimmering like rubies. In this state, he was almost beautiful, almost.

"More" he mouthed against Jekyll's palm, that was his mantra. His desperate, pitiful mantra, one which drove Jekyll even further into this brief whirl of madness. 

Edward's tears tasted like the ocean, his body was paradise to pillage, though that did not make him any less disgusting, nor any less a beast. "Fuck me," he whimpered, as though that was not what Jekyll was already doing. The doctor let his teeth scrape the pale expanse of his creation's throat, on the very edge of bliss, of relief. He let his teeth sink into that translucent flesh, the body below him jerked and gave a shout, fingers wildly gasping upon anything he could reach of Jekyll's. Copper slid against his tongue like honey, stained his teeth, he savored it like fine wine. "Oh God, Oh God," another sob wrenched from the younger man's chest as Jekyll's hand tugged mercilessly at his throbbing cock, bring him right up to the precipice of release before halting. The old doctor took his mouth from Edward, for he wished to see the spectacle unfold below him. 

_This man was a murderer_. For once the thought almost made Jekyll want to smile. This creature had the power to beat gentlemen to bloody pulps, yet here he was, sprawled atop a rickety desk like a whore. Worse then a whore, even, for when Jekyll was done with him there would be no transaction of cash or goods. Hyde would be left, as always, bruised, harshly used, degraded down to nothing but a flimsy, squalid husk of a man. 

All at once, merely to see what would happen, Jekyll pulled himself out completely from his partner, devoiding him of all contact when he most desperately needed it. The reaction was satisfactory. A whine like he had never heard escaped past screwed lips. 

"No, no," shrilled the small, trembling man, driving his hips upwards. 

Jekyll was aware of the fact that he could leave right now. He could finish himself off and be on his way. The thought was a charming one. Yet, it occurred to him belatedly that the last time he had abandoned Edward Hyde, things had not gone in his favor. Besides, he looked so impossibly debauched that Jekyll could not resist the pull of temptation that led him to sheath his wanting length back into his writhing courtesan. 

The shrill shriek that Hyde let out as he came undone was a most exquisite, effecting sound to Jekyll's ears, and he intensified his already inhumane thrusts, so close to that relief he craved. 

_"Finely made yet cheaply used."_ His own words, spoken so long ago, came back to him as he redid his breeches and smoothed the wrinkles from his clothes. Hyde lay unconscious, or something akin to it, still flung out lasciviously upon the desk. The flush had died from his cheeks, leaving behind a pale, unhealthy looking complexion.

Henry Jekyll thought it best, as always, to make haste away from his crime, lest Edward Hyde come to while he was still within strangling distance. 


End file.
